


Writer's Block

by Dorktapus42



Series: Come Together-verse [58]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Comfort? Ish?, Drama, Gen, Yup it's that kind of story this time wooo, sorry this was a bit rushed i have class lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23283823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorktapus42/pseuds/Dorktapus42
Summary: Host goes missing.Author does what he can.Shit goes down.Edit as of 2/1/21: This series is on a hiatus for the foreseeable future. Although I still want to come back to it at some point, it's not where my brain is at the moment fandom-wise and I feel like I'd be doing you a disservice writing when I'm not in the mood to. Either way, I hope you've enjoyed the series so far, and take care!
Relationships: Dark & Host, Host & Author, Wil & Host
Series: Come Together-verse [58]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1135463
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	1. Writer's Block

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy! Sorry it's been ages! I'm still in the middle of a major writer's block, so this'll be chapter by chapter instead of my usual *hey let's post all of this what's moderation right*, but I hope it's enjoyable! (I love writing Host and Author way too much can't you tell)  
> Have a good one! Stay safe and take care!

Dark looked over the meeting table with a carefully neutral expression. 

Where was Host? He wasn’t late. Ever. It was a point of pride with him. 

|Has anybody seen Host?|

Iplier frowned. “No, I haven’t. He usually comes by a bit before the meeting to get his bandages changed. I just thought he was engrossed in a project and saved it for after.”

“The cameras show nothing out of the ordinary-” Blue began.

“Wait- actually, he went out of the building about two hours ago. That’s weird.” Oliver finished with a worried tone in his voice.

Indeed. Host was perfectly happy staying inside his library for days at a time. 

|Author? Has anything been amiss?|

The ego in question pulled out a small notebook and pencil from his pocket, before starting to write, crossing things out like he was writing a list of sorts. 

As he did a small frown started to grow. He flipped the page and started to write faster. Eventually he stopped, eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

“This says he’s with Actor Mark, but I can’t get any more details than that. It just starts to loop.”

_ Loop? _

That didn’t sound good. 

“Wait, he’s with  _ him _ ? Why?” Wil frowned. 

|How can we get him back?|

“Can’t you do it?”

He shook his head. |I can’t affect the people in the Void, only the Void itself. Without any idea where he is, I’m stuck.|

Author abruptly got up and moved from the space, a storm of ideas brewing in the back of his mind. 

He had to check his papers-

He reached the filing cabinet in the corner of his room and shoved it open, frantically searching for Host’s section. There wasn’t much in there, but-

He grabbed what was in there, turned on his heel, and marched back to the meeting room, dropping the stack on the table and starting to sort. 

“What the-?”

He ignored them. Death scene, death scene, random nerf fight… cabin. 

Cabin? Huh. He skimmed it. It was barely a page, but….

Water. Hadn’t-

He plucked the piece of paper out of Bim’s hand and looked at them side by side. Drowning. Cabin. Water. 

“What the fuck...?”

He grabbed the pencil out of his pocket and started scribbling in the margins. Cabin. Okay, there was a cabin. He could ask Dark where it was… 

Actor. Okay, that had to be Actor Mark. Water. Well, that had to be actual water, judging by the death scene…

“Is this a fucking… death scene? What the hell?”

He didn’t look up. “One of infinitely possible futures, yes.”

“What. The fuck.”

|Author, could you write him back?|

He stopped scribbling. 

“Theoretically, I could do whatever I want. But yes, I could, with enough time.” He just really didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole again….

_ “THEN WHY HAVEN’T YOU?!” _

He let out a tired sigh before dropping the pencil and standing. 

“Chase? I’ll be needing a pen.”

\--------------

He was armed with naught but a sharpie and a blank wall. 

The others were crowded behind him, but he forced that out of his head. 

He needed to work. 

Sharpie touched wall… and he started to write. 

First, locating Host. Then, working with the Void to get him here. It wasn’t as easy as writing ‘Host appeared in the meeting room’. That would only work if he was nearby and Author knew where he was. It was layers upon layers, each with carefully constructed meanings. One wrong word could have unintended consequences. 

He was almost done with the third layer- the layer that made it so he could tell what was happening so he could safely work around it and get Host home, when Bing interrupted. 

“Why can’t you just get him here in a sentence?”

“It doesn’t work like that.” His voice was cool and neutral- a sure sign that his patience was fraying. 

“Why?” 

He didn’t have the time to answer, gathering information. So he had been right- Host was trapped in a cabin by Actor Mark, deep in the snowy, forest-y part of the Void. 

Now where was the water?

He kept writing, the sentences spiraling into a circle on the wall. A doorway, of sorts. 

Phantom voices transposed over those in real time as a scene bloomed in his mind’s eye. 

_ “The Host doesn’t see why the Actor has gone through all of this effort.” _

A laugh as the Actor- that was a much more fitting title- paced in front of a wall fractured and splitting like a pool of ice. Ah. Water indeed.

_ “It’s like a game of chess, dear Host. With their second heaviest hitter out of the way, the pieces are all in place to-” _

“Author-”

“Shut up!” He snarled. “I’m trying to listen!”

The room stilled as they noticed the way his eyes almost seemed to glow a strange, milky white as he kept writing, the light getting stronger as he closed the loop. 

Those in the room who had lived long enough were reminded of pre-Host Author. 

It was not a good reminder.

Onto the fourth circle. 

Now that he knew what was going on, all he had to do was-

The wall melted away with a word, the doorway opening. 

And Author stepped through, armed with naught but a pen and no fucks to give.

“Actor.”

The man in question looked rather taken aback. “What- you’re alive?!”

“Give him back.”

“Who is this Him you speak of?” Oh, he was scrambling. How… useless. 

“Don’t play games, asshole, or you won’t like what I think up to be a suitable way for you to die.” He was too tired to deal with this bullshit.

Actor hesitated for a second too long. 

Author’s aura flared, along with the light in his eyes, and the room seemed to dissolve into what almost looked like descriptions before the words were torn asunder like a scattered box of cheerios-

Actor was left lying on the floor in the fetal position, wheezing, as they were pieced together. 

Author turned towards Host and gestured towards the rift in the Void. 

“After you.”

He followed Host into the meeting room, immediately bypassed the group, dropped the sharpie, and turned towards the stairs as his vision tunneled and he clutched the staircase with a death grip. 

_ Oh god oh god oh god had he actually done that oh god- _

He somehow managed to stumble his way to his room before he collapsed onto the floor, feeling like he could scream. 

He had tried so hard. All of that work for- for what, reverting back to what he hated the second things went bad? 

He had tried so  _ hard.  _ So many sleepless nights, so many days feeling like he’d cut off oxygen to his lungs, or an arm, or a leg. Like he was missing something vital and  _ dying.  _

He’d tried to lock it all in and throw away the key, but he couldn’t. 

\-------------

“Host!”

“Are you okay?!”

“The Host is fine.” Parchment, parchment, where had he gone…

There was a flicker of energy he recognized as Dark’s as the wall shifted, erasing the way he’d come. |You are alright?|

“The Host is fine.” Parchment and cinnamon, second story, third room to the right. “Please excuse The Host.”

He slipped through the doorway and moved towards the stairwell. 

\----------

He knocked on the door. 

There was no noise inside. 

He still sensed Parchment and Cinnamon…

So he opened the door and started to mumble to himself. 

“As the door opens The Author is revealed to be asleep on the floor.”

He tilted his head with a frown. 

Author had disappeared after retrieving him-

_ He somehow managed to stumble his way to his room before he collapsed onto the floor, feeling like he could scream.  _

_ He had tried so hard. All of that work for- for what, reverting back to what he hated the second things went bad?  _

Oh. 

He quietly closed the door behind him. 

“Author was transported to his bed from his spot on the floor.”

He heard a slight sound as the action was carried out. 

“A woolen yellow blanket appeared in The Host’s fingers from the couch in the library.”

He draped said blanket over the still-sleeping Author and quietly left the room for the library to think. 

\--------------

Thinking was getting him nowhere. 

He couldn’t think of any ways to help. 

He couldn’t just narrate that he felt better, that was short term, and everything else had a chance of reshaping his personality or-

|You look busy, should I come back?|

He turned. Gunpowder and Quartz. “The Host was merely thinking. Is there anything Darkiplier needs?”

|I was just wondering if you knew how Author was doing. I haven’t seen him in awhile.|

“The Host last saw him asleep, but is currently trying to think of ways to assist him.”

|What do you mean?|

“The Author is currently suffering from his own demons. The Host wishes to help alleviate the strain, but can think of no solutions.”

|...I see. I was wondering if asking him to write you back would be the incorrect choice. It seems I was right.|

“It is not Darkiplier’s fault. The Author keeps things close to his chest. The Host is merely glad that the Author got there in time.”

|What do you mean?|

He waved off the question. Dreams. Visions. The usual. “Reasons. Nothing important.”

|If you say so. Now, what ideas did you have for helping Author?|

Host sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The Host cannot think of anything. Any narrations he preforms on The Author himself have the potential to warp his personality-”

|... have you thought of therapy? He’s tried it before, but I don’t think he’s gone back since.|

That gave him pause. Then he whacked himself in the head. Ow, fuck, he should not do that again. “The Host is an idiot.”

|The Host is human.| Darkiplier gently corrected. |I’ll speak to him about it. It’s at the point where I’m starting to think of making it mandatory.|

“That is probably a good idea.” 

|Probably?| Dark remarked dryly. |I’m thinking certainly, with the group we have here. Would you like some cake? Wilford made me some, and made a little too much.|

“The Host could never object to Wilford’s cake.”

A chuckle. |I’ll get you a piece then.|

Host paused on his way to the bookshelves. “Perhaps Darkiplier could split The Host’s piece in two for Author?”

A moment of silence. |Of course, if that’s what you wish.|

“The Host believes the Author would appreciate it.”

With a nod Dark disappeared in a wave of gunpowder and quartz. 

Host went to go polish Phantom’s book. It was finally in the library for once, so it needed due maintenance. 

His footsteps slowly halted as he surveyed the room. 

Or, well, he tried to. 

What the hell?

It was almost like his sense of everything was being clouded over. 

“... The Host’s sense of perception returned to normal.”

Nothing happened. If anything, the clouds masked things faster as if to spite him. 

He frantically tried to find the source. 

“The Host’s bat appeared in his hand as he tried to find the perpetrator of the crime, but The Actor was far beyond  _ my-” _

He choked on the words even as the bat appeared in his grip, the weight much less comforting than usual. 

He tried again. 

“The Actor-”

The words trailed off of his tongue as he heard the flat sound of his voice, all power normally held there gone. 

“Fuck.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry for the complete and utter silence for like,,, four months. That writers block never really went away, heh- literally had 3/4ths of this written two months ago and bolted out the rest with inspiration from a comment in less than an hour. Still can't say when the next one will go up because of it- 99% of my writing ability has diverted into my original content, for once? Can't say why, but I'm not complaining! 
> 
> Anywho, I hope you enjoy, and take care!

Host holed himself in his library for the rest of the day, not even opening it for Iplier and Schneep, who had come by for their usual game of chess. 

Dark and Wilford teleported in a little while after, not that he knew who they were until they spoke. 

|Host?|

“You okay, pal?”

Host was nowhere to be seen. 

|Host?|

“Go away.”

They followed the sound to the couch in the corner, where Host sat with his bat in his hand. 

“What are you doing, holing yourself up in here?”

“The Host said to go away.”

|We’re worried about you, Host. First yesterday-|

“-and then Doc said you wouldn’t let them in-”

Host spoke slowly, as if choosing his words. “The Host said to go away, and asks that they respect his wishes.”

“Are you sick or something? ‘Cause that’s all you had to say-”

|We can help you-|

“The Host is fine. Please leave.”

The tone brokered no argument. Dark sighed. 

|If you change your mind, just let us know.|

There was a faint sound as they both popped away. 

Host let out a long sigh, then buried his head in his hands. 

_ “Fuck.” _

\-----------------

Author looked at the heavy wooden door, closed for the first time he could remember since coming back from the dead, with a frown. 

He knocked. “Host?”

No answer. 

He knocked again. “Host? Are you alright?” He’d jolted to reality this morning with pages upon pages of meaningless scribbles, and faint red splotches on the page he was 99% sure were blood, and definitely not his. 

“Leave The Host alone.”

That didn’t sound like the loaded, almost drawling cadence he knew so well, heavied with the weight of reality. 

That sounded almost flat, lifeless. 

“Host, I’m going to open the door whether you like it or not.” He warned, reaching for a pen. 

A sound emanated from the inside, as if something had fallen over. 

“Host, I’m coming in.”

He hastily scribbled down the words he knew would open the door, and a heavy ‘crack’ split the air as the doors burst open, the piece of wood jammed into the barrication bars he remembered installing so long ago falling to the floor with a loud  _ bang.  _

The room didn’t look much different than usual, if you didn’t count the faint sweeping scratches that led a path towards the couch in the corner, next to the curtained bay window. 

Host sat on the couch with his bat in his hands. 

That explained the scratches. 

“Are you alright?”

“Please close the door.”

He did so. “Host? Are you okay?”

“... no. The Host is not okay.”

“What’s wrong?”

A long, quiet sigh. 

“The Host… you know what, fuck it. I’ve been cursed and I need your help.”

His stiffened. “You’ve- what?” The first person perspective was weird as hell. 

“Cursed. The Actor. Not sure how, but-”

This was not good. This was not good at all. 

He scribbled the words on his arm that would summon Actor’s file. 

There wasn’t much in there, but what was in there was… different. 

For one, it was almost all death scenes. Zombies, aliens, nukes, a giant laser, Dark taking over his body, time travel gone wrong...

“Okay, I have his file. Let’s see here…”

He muttered to himself as he flipped through. 

Huh. That wasn’t a death scene. That almost looked like… some sort of deal. Power? 

Was it Phantom? 

No, no, there were no signs. 

But the structure was weird, almost as if reading a script. All of them were, he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t realized it before-

Wait. 

A script. 

“You don’t think he has the powers of Dark or Wilford or Anti or one of us, do you?”

“What kind of powers?”

“I don’t know. Maybe changing reality with acted scenes or something?”

“... that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Nothing makes sense here, just go with it.”

“You think he might have gotten powers and cursed me with those?”

“Well, that might make sense. Here, let me try to fix it, and if that doesn’t work, it might only cement the theory.”

“Fine.”

He pulled out a napkin and wrote everything he could think of. 

“Anything?”

“...No.”

“Which would make sense, because we can’t really do things against one another.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, really. They all tried to stop me from writing… before… and I bypassed them. I couldn’t shoot Chase with a gun and have it hurt him, even if I wrote that the bullet worked like a normal bullet. We couldn't just write that JJ could talk normally, when his powers revolve about literally being silent. It’s sort of… a check and balance system.”

“... Then now what?”

He grinned sharply. “We figure out how to beat him.”

\----------

He got to work on finding Actor as Host sat. 

He was still in that little woodland cabin. Huh. It must be his center of operations. Well then. He could work with that easily enough. 

Then he felt a little nudge, as if he was trying to be pushed. He scribbled down a quick reminder of what he was doing and it cleared. 

Huh. 

“Hey Host?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you ever been pushed away from finding out something? 

“No- wait, yes. When Phantom was attacked by the Masked Society.”

“Any chance you know what that was?”

A pause of contemplation. “No. I assumed it was a defense mechanism- except that doesn’t make any sense. Why?”

“Any chance it could have been Actor practicing?”

A long pause. “Perhaps? It would be rather random, though.”

“Not if he didn’t want Phantom to be found. They had him outnumbered. With a little bad luck…”

“I see your point.”

“Maybe he was just trying to pick off some of his greatest competition. He’s already tried to, well, get rid of you once. It’s just that now he’s managed to make you less of a threat.”

“Do get to the point.”

“What about the others? He could have influenced them to do anything he wanted, and they just got lucky that another person thwarted it. Who knows what he’s done before now- he’s just gotten cocky.”

Host buried his face in his hands as the implications set in. “He could have preformed such at any point- any one of the others-”

“Why, though?”

“To pick the less dangerous ones out of the picture, perhaps.”

“Jackie’s been having some trouble with some looters, lately.” Author mused.

“Really? I had not heard of this.”

“Yeah. He’s had to get Silver and the Slow Motion Action Heroes to help keep things down, they’ve been coming out of nowhere. Think he could be the cause of it?”

A long pause. “I think we should call a meeting.”

“Host-”

“I think we should call a meeting.” Host’s voice, which for the entire conversation had been rather limp, strengthened. “The others need to know what is going on, and they will be able to contribute far more to the conversation than I.”

There was nothing but the sounds of the other egos in the house, the faint creaks and voices filtering through the tension in the air. 

“If you’re sure.”

A short laugh. “I am not sure about anything anymore, Author. But I do believe it is the wisest course of action.”

A nod. “Alright. I’ll tell the others. Do you want to come, or…?”

“I am not entirely sure my muscle memory will get me that far, but I am willing to try for the sake of transparency.”

“If you’re comfortable with it, then we can. I don’t want to pressure you just because-”

“Author.” 

The firmness in his voice cut him short. 

“This isn’t just something I can push aside because of myself. This is something that can impact any one of us. I cannot stand by while that happens.”

“... okay. I can’t argue with that.”

There was a faint muttering of directions, an even fainter muttering of curse words, and they were soon out of the library with the heavy snap of the wooden doors. 

They had a problem to solve. 


End file.
